Here Is Gone
by letyoursoultakeflight
Summary: Vardene has been a sex slave for most of his life. Bitter and hate-filled, how can he begin to see a woman as anything but evil? Set in Dena Nehele when Lia is Queen, mostly OC. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Vardene growled low in his throat as the woman in front of him roughly turned his head to inspect the wound the Guard had inflicted on him earlier that day. He knew it wasn't sympathy that made her examine the seriousness of the injury. Oh, no. Never sympathy. He was to be sold at Raej's slave auction that day and any defect to potential property meant a lower price. Yes, the Guard who had struck him would suffer dearly. Vardene smirked.

"And what is it you find so amusing?"

His cold lifeless eyes looked into those of the cruel woman before him, the taught lines of his body giving away the revulsion and tightly reigned violence he felt towards her.

The bitch flinched. He had known she would.

Not many had met his gaze after he had spent a few years subject to the heartless treatment given a pleasure slave, and now that he had killed, well, hardly any met his gaze at all. Now they knew what a Sapphire-Jewelled Warlord Prince was capable of, Ringed though he was.

Pain shot through his cock, forcing him to his knees. He would not cry out. He would not give the slut the pleasure. More pain. White-hot. He could not think. His head fell back, his face a mask of agony.

"Not so funny now is it?" came the self-satisfied voice.

As he lay there, on the ground and in pain, his life darting in short reels before his eyes, he wondered why he had ever wanted to be between a woman's thighs. How did he come to find himself in this hell of an existence? One thing was for sure, he could not carry on for much longer. Twenty years of being brutalized by Terreille's women was too much. He could take no more. He was not strong enough.

His murder of all those women had proven that. The smirk came to his lips again. His first kill had been near a year ago. The aristo slut had dosed him with _saframate_ and had him tied down. Having no control over his body's needs, he had craved her touch just as much as he had reviled it. And this time he had snapped. Through the sexual haze that had threatened to take away coherent thought, had come the thought, _enough_. She had been an Opal-Jewelled witch upon entering that bedroom. She had left it whimpering, lost in the Twisted Kingdom. Yes, he had taken from her all that made her Blood. Not a physical kill then, but a kill none-the-less.

They had been wary of him after that. But they had been sure they could keep him from repeating those actions, reluctant as they were to lose a Ringed Warlord Prince wearing the Sapphire Jewel. But his violent nature, so unstable because of the physical and emotional abuse that had already tattered his defences, had risen again leaving three witches dead.

He was not horrified by his actions. He had long lost any of those feelings. No, he found _satisfaction_ in having rid Dorothea SaDiablo of some of the bitches under her influence. _Satisfaction_ in having relieved the Realm of Terrreille of a few of those sluts who preyed on men meant to serve and protect.

He had heard stories of Territories in which Blood males thought it a privilege to serve. They did not fear their Queen, they were not afraid of expectations they had no desire to fill, they did not see their position as distasteful.

Even more outrageous were the stories suggesting that not all Territories had slaves. That had been what finally convinced him the other stories must have been some dreamed up fantasy slaves had conjured up to comfort themselves in their darkest hours. Every Territory had slaves. Every Territory bought men and women as property. And every Territory's buyers mistreated their acquisitions without conscience.

Thinking otherwise would just lead to desires he could never fulfil. The smirk left his face. And pain once again shot through his cock from the Ring of Obedience.

This time he screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

The little girl clung to him. Quivering uncontrollably against his thigh her arms were wrapped around. The man in front of them obviously terrified her more than he did. Vaguely, Vardene wondered why.

"Don't be scared, little Catlyn, no-one's going to hurt you."

The men around him guffawed. Vardene glared at them.

"I, I… I don't want to…"

"What? You don't want to? Did you hear that, men? Little Catlyn doesn't want to come and play," the singsong voice of the grimy man before them taunted. "That's a bit of a problem then, wouldn't you say?"

Catlyn just stared dumbly at the man making his way forward.

"Because we never said you got a choice."

More laughter. The girl's arms tightened convulsively. The man who had purchased them came forward.

"Don't look to him, little one, he gets a piece of you too if he's lucky."

He felt the heightened fear coming off the child who held him as a barrier against the world. He realised she had considered who posed more of a danger and determined him to be the lesser threat. The girl should never have had to make that choice.

Vardene growled. The man's eyes finally became wary. Pain flared through the Ring. He gritted his teeth, holding his upright position, and called in his Sapphire Jewel. He knew more than outranked these bastards.

But they had the Ring. And were more than willing to use it against him.

He let a burst from his Jewel out in a semi-circle before him, careful to include all those in front of him. Shields shot up, but quickly flickered out against the strength of his darker Jewel. Men fell to their knees, some using their lighter Jewels against him; his new master, though lying awkwardly, still managing to command more pain into the Ring of Obedience.

White hot. Searing. Soul stealing.

He staggered back. Shot out another blast of power. Grabbed the girl beside him, turned his back and tried to run.

It was stupid to turn from his enemy, but he could not think clearly, not with the intense pain searing into his groin. He ran, stumbled, and ran again before the pain brought him screaming to his knees.

Dimly he was aware of people in front of him. Dimly did he note the shield they put up when he tried to blast them into oblivion. Faintly did he hear Catlyn's muted sobs. And then everything went black.

***

The first thing Vardene noticed when he woke was that there was no pain.

There should have been pain. Even before the lashing there had been pain, his body having suffered for so long.

Sitting up slowly he looked around. It was a fairly plain looking room, but comfortable. It had a homey feel. _Whatever that was_, he thought harshly, not allowing himself to yearn for something he could never have.

This was probably just another cruel game. Sweet Darkness, but he didn't know how much more he could take.

Footsteps. His anger rising, he looked around for a weapon. This time he would make sure he won, or more likely, went down trying. Either way it was an escape. Grabbing the fire poker, he settled into battle stance.

The door swung open.

"Hell's fire!" The woman barely dodged the first blow and had no chance when his fist came forcefully towards her. Impact. She crashed to the floor.

He started to advance on her but soon found himself slammed hard against the wall. It never took long for the bitches to show their colours. Whether it was sex they wielded as a weapon, or violence, they all had it in them.

Held there by the invisible force of the woman's Jewel, Vardene watched as she got shakily to her feet, rubbing just below her shoulder where his fist had caught her. She groaned softly. A cruel smile tugged at his lips. Vardene, one; slut, nil.

Her gaze met his. His so cold and filled with loathing, hers so strangely devoid of anger, but instead containing something he could not place. Her gaze quickly flicked to annoyance, however, when a thunder of footsteps came swiftly down the hall.

He watched her straighten and turn towards the intruder whose large form now filled the doorway.

"Mother Night, Charlie! I warned you! Stay away from the bastard, he's not stable!" Vardene's grim smile became strained as the Warlord's Jewel strength was added to the woman's to hold him, forcing him harder against a surface that held no mercy.

"What was that noise, Charlie? Did he hurt you?" The man stepped towards the glowering woman before him.

"Valen. Do. I. Look. Hurt?"

"He's wielding a bloody poker, woman! Did. He. Hurt. You?!"

"No! Who's the one held, Warlord?! Yes, he came at me—" the one named Valen growled, "—but he did not reach me. Do you blame him, Valen? Mother Night but we can only guess at what he went through. You saw his wounds… do you blame his attack?"

"Yes!"

The woman sighed.

"Leave me now, Valen, I need to see to him."

A feral growl rose out of his throat, betraying a hint of fear before he could rein it in. Her denial of his hurt towards her could mean only one thing. She had plans for him. If his invisible bonds had allowed for any movement they would have held him trembling. He was so close to the edge. So close to losing himself. He could not take any more pain. He would rather die.

At his snarl, the Warlord's gaze had swung to him.

"I don't think so, Charlie. I'll be staying. And the bonds stay too."

Vardene glared at them both, eyes feral. He had expected no less. So when she started arguing that she needed them gone to examine him it took him completely by surprise.

Until he remembered the Ring of Obedience. Yes, that little slut was just itching to use it against him.

He had used his physical strength against her, used to the fact that using his Jewel meant more pain through the Ring of Obedience. But looking down on his naked body, he realised he wore no Ring. The customary tightness always present, always reminding him of his servitude, was gone. So when the Warlord relented and allowed his bonds to vanish along with hers, he did not fight against them with all he had, but instead slumped heavily against the wall behind him, confused and distressed. He felt apart from all that was happening around him, like an inhabitant in someone else's body, his concentration wavering from what it should have focussed on and rebelled against. He was empty, slipping ever closer to breaking point, and into the Twisted Kingdom.

***

Charlie looked warily at the Warlord Prince in front of her as she gently examined him. Violently passionate and passionately violent. And this one unstable. She would be lying if she said he didn't frighten her. She hoped Queen Lia's decision to bring him to the safety of Dena Nehele was not going to be one she would later regret. Her Consort and husband, Jared, was certainly opposed to his being here. She didn't know whom she stood with.

As a Healer she wanted to help him, but she knew the realities of what happened to those serving in Hyall, and he, being a pleasure slave, was even more at risk of losing himself amidst the turmoil he had faced in servitude.

Head tilted, she examined him again, this time not as a Healer, but as a woman. He was good looking. His sun-kissed skin marking him of Shalador descent, which his dark hair and eyes confirmed. He was well built, but his posture was now one of defeat, not of the arrogant strength and tightly reined violence so common in his caste. Oh, the violence was there, but it was not the same as that of other Warlord Princes. It was different, even more unpredictable. Darker, volatile, savage.

Not minutes ago he had been angry and ready to fight with everything in him, but now he was utterly motionless as she carefully scrutinized him, he was utterly beaten. Something had shifted inside him; something had made him think worse of a situation he should feel more secure in. But what?

Perhaps the girl who had been with him, Catlyn, would know. She had been hard to separate from his side, and now kept pestering her to resume that position. But she could not in all conscience let a child sit by a man who could turn and kill her, and with the greeting she had received upon coming into the room she had not been wrong to keep the two apart.

She did not know why she had covered for the man in front of her, but as a Healer she had a lot of misplaced courage. Or so Valen told her. All she knew was that the man before her was someone who needed help, needed healing. And no matter what it cost her, she would see it done.

Charlie smiled. _I guess I agree with Lia._


	3. Chapter 3

"How is he? Is he okay? Did he ask if I was okay? He saved me, you know. He doesn't scare me anymore. They tried to make me fear him, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Not like those other men… they wanted… they were bad men…" the little girl shuddered and went quiet.

"He, ah, he has woken up now, but he hasn't said much," Charlie answered carefully as she knelt in front of Catlyn. She did not know how to tell the girl that the man who had saved her was unlikely to ask after her. He did not seem to care about anything. Though he _had_ saved her… maybe the girl and her constant chattering would be good for him. As long as she knew that Catlyn would be safe.

"How would you like to see him? I need to see how he is again, you could come along if you would like?"

"Oh, yes please, Charlie!"

"But you have to be careful around him, Catlyn, he is a little… unstable. I do not know if… You have to promise me you wont go up to him unless I—"

"He wont hurt me, Charlie!"

"Just promise me."

"Okay… but he wont hurt me, you'll see. He'll be happy to see me I bet!"

Charlie just shook her head resignedly at the girl's enthusiasm, and hoped she was doing the right thing. He had shown no interest in anything after his initial anger that morning, and she did not think a girl he had known for such a short time would have left any impression on his broken soul.

Arriving at his door, she carefully knocked before pushing it open. Valen had told her not to visit him unescorted, but she was not going to adhere to his protective requests or else she'd not get anything done.

Vardene was standing, staring out the room's window. She vaguely wondered why this unpredictable man had stayed put when Catlyn ran towards him before she could stop her.

"Catlyn!"

Vardene spun around. At first confused, his eyes quickly chilled to anger, his body becoming taught with violence. And still Catlyn ran to him.

"No! Catlyn!" Charlie took a step forward, drawing on her Opal strength to shield the helpless child who ran obliviously into danger. But Vardene felt her descend, and snarling, he thrust his hand in her direction, sending out his own Jewel's strength to slam her against the wall and hold her still.

Catlyn stopped then.

"Vardene?"

"What did she do to you?"

"N-nothing."

Charlie watched helpless as his cold dark eyes bore into the child in front of him.

"You were running."

"I, I wanted to s-see you."

Vardene continued to stare at Catlyn, but his hard gaze was starting to change, starting to soften, starting to look ashamed. But then the ice-cold mask was back. Charlie gasped as the strength that held her was released.

"What do you want now, you disgusting little slut?"

She gasped again as he addressed his cutting words to her. She watched dumbly as he stalked towards her.

"If you ever harm this child I will come for you. I don't know what you and your people are playing at, taking the Ring off me and healing me, but I will not be played. I've had enough. You harm Catlyn, and you'll find yourself a twisted shell of what you once were, spreading your legs for any drunk just to gain a crust of bread. Come after me, and you'll wish you _had_ chosen the child. Now, leave, slut."

Charlie started shaking. He looked so crazed, his cold stare boring into her, hating her, wanting her dead. Through her fear she became aware of Catlyn, by now softly crying.

"Cat—" she started.

"Leave!"

But she could not go, could not leave a child she barely knew near a man she was beginning to understand but nevertheless fear.

He seemed to become aware of Catlyn then. She watched as he turned toward the child before slowly backing away, brows knitted together, his once savage face now looking wild and broken.

"No… no…"

Charlie watched as the Warlord Prince turned on his heel and ran.

***

Vardene ran unseeing, not knowing where the corridors he followed lured him.

He had made her fear him. Catlyn. The girl he had saved. The girl who had, for some reason of her own, decided to fear others more than she did him.

But now she feared him.

All he had had left, all he had found to hold onto, was falling apart. Faster, he had to go faster. He had to escape her, escape the pain she had made him feel.

He ran on swift legs, his muscles burning, his breath coming in short gasps. The child had somehow got to him, had somehow crawled into a heart he had thought long ago filled only with hate and distrust. But he had been wrong. And now he had to run.

***

Valen grinned.

*Think he'll win this time?*

*Hell no. Hell's fire, he's just a pup.*

Valen and Jared watched with interest as a young Warlord squared off against his more experienced teacher, who also happened to be Dena Nehele's Master of the Guard. Valen grinned again. Yes, the boy had a way to go yet.

*He has a lot to learn.*

Jared winced as the youth went down.

"You're getting better all the time, boyo," Valen cheerfully praised as he helped the pupil to his feet.

"But not quick enough. I can't put Markal down," he looked at the grizzled, though muscular, Master of the Guard, "so I certainly wont be able to floor you."

"Not for a while yet I imagine," Valen chuckled as he swiped Ravenar's legs out from under him with a fighting stick.

"What the…?"

Valen followed the older Warlord's gaze.

"Who in the Darkness is that?" Jared growled.

Valen cursed under his breath and started sprinting towards the Warlord Prince who was causing all the commotion. He felt shields go up around the women nearest Vardene, and growled. Hell's fire, what the bloody hell had that pissy little Warlord Prince done?! He slammed a barrier around Vardene as he drew closer, knowing all the while that the man's darker strength could splinter the psychic barricade he had him enclosed in.

Valen snarled as he threw himself at the man before him, aiming to catch him off guard before he could pitch his Sapphire Jewel against his own Opal strength. He brought the practice stick he still held down hard against Vardene's side causing him to stumble. He didn't wait for him to recover and with an Opal shield around his fist, slugged the toppling man in front of him hard in the stomach.

Anger fuelled him as he thought of the women who had shielded themselves against this rogue Warlord Prince who must have threatened them. The bastard had no self-control, and a dark jewelled Warlord Prince with nothing to control his violent nature was a danger to everyone around him. He'd have to keep Charlie away from him after this.

Vardene's expression barely registered to Valen as he fought against the untrained Warlord Prince. Perhaps if it had, he would have stopped. Perhaps if he had seen the defeat so clearly etched on the man's face, perhaps if he had noticed the way he did not use his psychic or physical strength to fight back, he might have relented.

Perhaps.

But he didn't see, and so his last well aimed blow sent the beaten man below him into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

Vardene slowly became aware of the quiet chatter of female voices as he awakened from his groggy sleep.

He shifted restlessly. No pain. There should have been pain. Mother Night, but there had certainly been pain before the blessed Darkness had finally taken him for a while. He had hoped it had taken him forever… but it appeared that the anger the Warlord had unleashed on him had not taken his life, only punished his body.

He opened his eyes. And found Catlyn's face only centimetres from his, staring at him wide-eyed.

He didn't blink. He dared not blink. What was she thinking? Did she hate him? His heart started hammering in his chest. He had scared her. He had wanted to protect her from the bitch… woman… who had been shouting. But it had been him she had feared. After having her feel safe around him, he had not been able to bear her fear. What was she thinking?

Catlyn mouth turned into a smile, a giggle escaped her lips.

His heart quickened further, his eyes widened.

"Finally! You sleep _forever_!"

He just kept staring at her. She was smiling. That was good. Wasn't it?

"Catlyn…" Vardene heard the Healer's voice softly reprimanding the girl beside him. His heart slowed from its maddening pace. Rage started to fill him. Still the bitch wanted to flaunt her superiority over him with Catlyn.

No. He needed to stop. He could not afford to have Catlyn scared of him again. He was too close to losing it. His flight and the punishment he had not prevented had proven that. He had wanted to die, had wanted to slide into nothingness… wanted to escape.

But he was still here. And he found he was glad.

"I wanted to wake you up but Charlie wouldn't let me. She said you needed to sleep to heal. But I can't see anything wrong with you. I _tried_ to tell her, but she insisted. Anyway, you're awake now. Do you want to play a game? Charlie says you have to stay in bed and rest, but you could play from there."

Vardene didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.

"Catlyn, why don't you get the board game Lia gave you?"

"Oh yeah! You'll love that game, Vardene! You'll be good at it! But you have to let me win sometimes, okay?" He watched her scamper animatedly towards the door, before smiling in resignation at her withdrawing form.

"Vardene?"

He growled low in his throat, watching the woman in the room out of the corner of his eyes.

"I-I have been healing you. Valen hurt you pretty bad, and I am sorry for that. I gave you a tonic for the pain so that you could sleep, and I will give you more later. But do not let your pain free state lead you to think you are okay. You are not. You will need rest and more healing." Vardene watched as she drew a slightly shaky breath. "You will have to stay here. No one is going to hurt you, Vardene, you are safe here, so please do not—"

A savage noise escaped his throat. How dare the bitch dictate the path he follow! He went to leap from the bed towards her, but his limbs did not support him and instead he ended up a shaking heap on the floor. Confused, Vardene looked up at the woman he had failed to get to.

She was standing still, wide-eyed and reeking of fear.

"Vardene, no… no-one will harm you here."

His eyes glared daggers at her, all the while hating the reaction she was having towards him. Hated the way her fear grated on his already frayed nerves. Hated the way it fed his inborn urge to protect, which was rising within him in response to her emotions. Hated the way his body reacted to hers.

He knew the hate fuelled conflict within him was evident on his face, so he was stunned when the woman in front of him stepped towards him. Falteringly, to be sure, but towards him she was coming. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised since Healer's seemed to have an instinctive desire to help, to heal, despite any adversity. They lacked self-preservation.

He watched her warily as she came and crouched before him. He heard someone enter the door behind him. Catlyn. He had to behave. And so he let the woman before him touch him. Let her hands, trembling at first, travel over him. Let her help him to his feet and to the bed he would have to rest in.

And then he let Catlyn win her board game.

***

All through the next week he rested. He was so sick of being confined to his room. But after a few attempts at leaving his prison only to end up collapsing in a heap, he had realised the Healer had been right. He needed to regain his strength.

The Healer… Charlotte… had visited him a lot during his confinement. Always with Catlyn.

Except for once.

Last night he had woken to find her, exhausted, sitting beside his bed as her hands hovered above him, healing him. He had seen that she was tired and hurting. Had seen that she was harming herself to heal him. She had not known he had seen. Had not, through her fatigue, noticed when something within him shifted as he watched her.

She had not noticed when he had finally understood that he was safe around her.

***

Charlie took a deep breath. _Stop being silly!_ She could do this. He had not been so volatile lately. He had even stopped looking at her like he wanted to rip her apart. Yes, she could do this.

She knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and quietly walking through. Vardene was sitting shirtless, staring out the window overlooking the courtyard. He turned and looked up at her and the expression on his face before he masked it caused her breath to catch. The pain so clearly etched there made her want to reach out to him, to hold him close… but she knew he would not welcome her in that way.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine."

"Do you mind if I…? I just need to examine you once more to make sure you are fully healed, and then you can go." She knew it had been the wrong thing to say as soon as she had said it; his hardening expression just confirmed it. "I… I did not mean… I just meant you don't have to stay cooped up in this room any longer… Sheesh! Don't be so touchy!"

Realising what she had said, Charlie quickly went to his side before he had time to react to her words. She needed to be more careful. Pushing an emotionally unstable Warlord Prince was not a wise thing to do. Especially if your Jewels were lighter.

Humming to herself, Charlie lost herself in delving the man before her, using Craft to check the progress of his physical healing. But though occupied by her work, she could not help noticing, not for the first time, the fine form of the body beneath her hands. His body was so perfect. She guessed they had not needed to leave physical scars when emotional ones did not retract from his physical appeal to the women who had used him. Plus, the Ring of Obedience was more pain than they could have inflicted with whip or chains anyway. Her hands became more forceful as they moved against his body. _Bitches_.

He grabbed her hands. Startled, she looked down at his face, into his questioning eyes.

"Is something wrong, Charlotte?"

Oh, no. Her emotions were besting her. She knew better than that, knew better than to bring these kinds of feelings into a healing room.

"Ah, wrong?"

His eyes became wary and she silently cursed herself for not encouraging his… his what? Show of concern? That was so far removed from his character that she found trouble believing that had been what his actions hinted at.

"You… you seemed angry. Did… did I…?"

"What? No! Of course not. It's just hard for me to see… pain… that I cannot take away…" she finished, screwing up her face in concern.

His eyes, a moment ago worried for her, grew ice cold and distant. A moment. That's all it took and he was the Warlord Prince she had been told of. No longer the man she thought he could be. This was the man who had been tormented with his own mortality by the most powerful of the Blood in Hyall and had come out the victor. This was a man to be feared. A man to run from.

But Charlie held firm. She would not let him see her fear.

"Think to fix me do you, witch?" He snarled as he menacingly rose to his feet. "I'm a broken toy, not acceptable until I am whole? Is that it? Go ahead then, _fix_ me! Kiss me, make it better, touch me like I have a _choice_!" he spat out, shoving her hard against the wall, running one hand down her body while he held you neck in a vice like grip. "Is there a man here who has not had the use of you?"

She remained quiet and trembling under his imposing form.

"Slut. Innocence doesn't suit you."

Despite her growing fear, Charlie tried again to reach him.

"Vard—"

His grip on her tightened, making her gasp.

"What? Wishing I was still Ringed are you, you little whore? You can have my body, but you'll never have me."

"Vardene, don't do this, please do not do this," she whispered.

His cold gaze bore into hers for eternity before finally losing some of its intensity. "Why? It's what you wanted isn't it?" he whispered, his once hateful tone now unsteady.

"I never want to remind you of evil, Vardene. I never want to cause you pain."

He stepped back so suddenly at that, his jaw clenched.

"Go. Go now."

She stood staring at him numbly.

"Now, little witch!"

With that, she fled.


	5. Chapter 5

Hollow. He felt so hollow.

It had been nearly a week since he had seen her. Nearly a week since he had left marks on her neck the shape of his crushing fingers.

So many times he had uttered cutting words towards the distaff gender, his only defence against the pain they inflicted. So many times. And not once had he cared for the pain he saw in their gaze. Not once had he cared for the fear he put there.

But this time… this time was different. _He_ felt different.

She was a woman. She was a powerful Blood-female, not just in Jewels, but also in caste. He should hate her. But he didn't. Couldn't.

He wanted to though. It would be so much easier if he could hate her like all the others.

But she was safe. She was not of Hyall. Her hair was a riot of tangled curls, not straight and glossy black; her eyes were not gold, but a brilliant green; and her skin was pale and flushed, not the golden-brown of evil.

Vardene ran his hand restlessly through his dark hair.

"Mother Night!"

The pain that had flickered in Charlotte's gentle face still haunted him. And he hated her for it. But mostly he hated himself for putting it there. For going too far. So many times she had come back after he had lashed out at her, only seeing a woman from his past, never seeing someone that might be different. Never seeing _her_.

But she had always come back. Always. And part of him had always been glad. Through his shield of cynicism and hate, part of him had still, after all this time, welcomed a woman. Welcomed her.

And now he had gone too far, leaving all he had salvaged to be lost. He had only himself to blame, but that did not make the bitter reality any easier to swallow. He had to find her. Had to make it better for her. Yes, he could not leave her hurting.

And so it was, that not long after, he found himself navigating the corridors leading to her chambers, his body craving her presence, hungering for her.

Reaching her door, Vardene knocked sharply against the wooden frame.

"Come in."

He hesitated at the laughing tone of the voice that called out, feeling like he did not belong, like he could never belong.

Steeling himself, he pushed the door open and stepped through, his gaze flickering from Charlie to Catlyn, both of them perched on her bed.

"I…"

His eyes widened, his nostrils flared. Moon's blood. Mother Night, the woman was in her moontime!

He felt himself rising to the killing edge, his instinctual urge to protect manifesting itself within the savage nature of his caste. He battled against it, struggled against the violent power within him. But why wasn't she protected? Why weren't any males or females willing to stand between her and any threat?

His anger sharpened, becoming even more savage, fuelled as it was by his need to defend, his need to protect.

The fearful gaze her eyes had betrayed upon first seeing him had done nothing to placate the savagery within him, and now her eyes betrayed something closer to panic. It was often hard enough for a woman to trust a man she knew well around her in her vulnerable time, but for him to be near her…

Snarling, he slammed a Sapphire shield around the room, effectively stopping all entry by any weaker Jewelled threat. Then he turned towards the woman who fuelled his savagery, the woman whose presence kept him dancing on a knife's edge.

"Vardene—"

"What is wrong with the people of Dena Nehele?! This Territory that is supposed to house those of the Blood who live with honour? Where are they when you need protection?" he spat as he advanced towards her bed, his darkened eyes watching as she squeaked and scrambled away.

"At least let Catlyn go."

Vardene snarled. "She can leave whenever she likes. She knows that."

"I _told_ you he was protective," exclaimed a grinning Catlyn.

Charlie just stared at her.

Vardene spun around as he felt the strength of lighter Jewels being used against his shield, followed by a loud banging on the bedroom door. Rage filled him. They were trying to get to Charlie, wanting to harm her.

Everything that made him a Warlord Prince continued to manifest itself within him, every protective urge he had for so long fought against amassed itself inside him. Everyone was a potential threat.

Descending to the level of Sapphire, Vardene prepared himself to let loose a blast of power to take out the men behind the door.

But Catlyn ran to the door, halting his plans for the moment. She was not a threat. She was someone to defend. He stepped towards her.

"We're fine! Stop trying to get through, you'll only make it worse! Charlie, tell them, they don't understand! Vardene is no threat, you silly—"

The banging stopped. Something must have happened, but he had missed it, held as he was by the strong emotions riding him. The attacks against the physical barrier he was maintaining halted too. Vardene stopped watching the door, and instead swung his gaze to the woman behind him, who was wearing a worried, but determined, expression. He watched as she went to Catlyn and said something to her, too quiet for him to hear even in his state of heightened sensation.

"Vardene? I have to go… somewhere. Can you let me through?"

He didn't reply. Couldn't reply. He just adjusted the shield he held to let Catlyn through. But no one from the other direction, never that. They were a threat. And he had to keep Charlie safe from them.

***

Hells fire, Mother Night and may the Darkness be merciful. What in the Darkness was she going to do to placate an irate Warlord Prince? At least the men outside had stopped trying to get to her, though she knew they were not happy about it. But Catlyn would explain it to them. Catlyn would be able to pay full attention to the questions she herself had been unable to answer on the conversation Valen had started on a psychic thread. She grimaced. She did not envy the girl with Valen haranguing her. At least she was safe though.

Charlie just managed to suppress a flinch as she looked up into Vardene's eyes. Their intensity scared her more than she'd like to admit.

"Ah…" Charlie started, only to realise she did not know what to say.

Vardene approached her.

"You should be in bed."

"Okay," she squeaked as she made a dash for the bed only to have his arm wrap around her and stop her progress.

"Charlotte," he growled, "you need to be resting, not running about."

She clung to him as he quite expertly picked her up.

She had not expected that. She had thought he would sit away from her and keep everyone beyond the door at bay. She had not thought he'd try his hand at fussing.

He carried her over to her bed, expertly drawing the duvet back while still holding her to him. After placing her carefully onto the mattress he waited until she had wriggled down before tucking her in, his tender actions at odds with his dark expression.

It was then that he seemed to realise what he was doing, for he stepped back and turned away, but not before Charlie noticed the confused expression on his once glowering face. She went to say something, but before she could gather her thoughts he had turned back around and strode purposively to her side.

"Charlotte… did I… have I…?" he rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know what I'm doing…"

Her eyes flicked across his face, taking in the lines of worry warring with the tightly leashed violence within him. He turned again, snarling, and swiped the glass from the bedside table beside her, causing it to shatter as it hit the floor. She flinched, but he did not see, his eyes focussed as they were on the broken shards by his feet. He cursed, then sighed as he bent to pick them up.

"Hell's fire!" he swore as he stood to his feet.

"Your bleeding!" her training taking over, Charlie shot out from under the blankets in her haste to get to him, wincing as she instinctively called in her Jewels.

"CHARLOTTE! Mother Night, woman, what do you think you are _doing_?" he roared as he scooped her up and tossed her lightly back onto the bed. "It's your moontime, wench! Mother Night, you don't use Craft in your moontime!"

Charlie stared at the man before her who was again quickly rising to the killing edge. Anyone would think she'd hacked her arm off. Insufferable ass. She'd only used a little Craft, only enough to call in her Jewels; she had not even got to seal the cut on his hand. And he had the hide to be pissed at her! She sighed. Thank the Darkness she could wear her Jewels with ease tomorrow.

"Vardene, calm—"

"Screw calm!"

Charlie huffed.

"At least let me see to your hand."

Vardene snarled.

"I wont use Craft! It was an accident anyway," she said, but noticed he did not look like he believed her. "There are bandages in the bathroom, I'll go get—"

Vardene bit off another snarl.

"_You'll_ go and get them… and then I can clean and wrap your hand."

He glared at her for a while before going off to comply. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was so volatile. And her moontime was only making it worse for him. But Catlyn had been right, he was being protective, not threatening.

While she silently pondered this, Vardene came back to her side equipped with a cloth bandage, cleaning salve and a basin of water. Charlie smiled. New to fussing he may be, but he certainly acted like all the other males and thought of everything so as to keep her resting in bed.

He sat beside her and she got to work cleaning and wrapping his hand. There was no glass in the wound, which was lucky since she could not use Craft, but it was rather deep. Lucky she would be able to heal it properly tomorrow as she did not think he would go to another Healer while she was without the use of her Jewels.

"There, all finished. It's not too tight?"

Though still edgy, he had calmed a little under her soothing touch and now looked at her with uncertainty again. Finally he vanished the bowl and salve along with the broken glass, and after a slight hesitation, gathered her in his arms and settled back on the bed under the duvet.

"Vardene?"

She felt as he tensed.

"Goodnight."


	6. Chapter 6

She could tell it had been utterly foreign to him, this sudden need of his to protect her, to fuss over her. The way he had tucked her into bed, but had afterwards seemed to seek confirmation that it had been the right thing to do, the proper way to behave. After a while though, he had gotten a little bossy, the instinctual nature of his caste rising to the occasion.

But she found she quite liked it.

She never liked feeling vulnerable and she had certainly felt afraid at his initial reaction to her moontime, but she definitely liked having him fuss over her… after all, it had ended with her falling asleep in his arms.

Lia always complained about Jared and the men around her fussing and she herself had definitely had her fair share of males around her who did not know when enough was enough, but Vardene seemed… different. Perhaps it was because she saw his actions as helping to heal some hole in him, helping him to realise that some women were worth the attention that males wanted to give them. Helping him to realise that 'to serve' did not always correspond to fear and subjugation.

It was also no doubt because she found she quite liked having him near her, temper and all. Charlie blushed, but did not move from the Warlord Prince's sleeping embrace. Somehow they had ended up entwined in the night and she realized she in no way wanted to disentangle herself from the strong possessive hold of his arms.

He seemed more comfortable with her when he was asleep, more inclined to give in to that part of him that yearned for a woman's touch. And she loved the way his hard muscular form held her safe, held her shielded against the world. Not that she had anything to fear from those of Dena Nehele, but the way he held her now made her realise that had she had all the Blood of the Realm threatening her, he would have stood firm between her and they. Something inside him, still so foreign to him, nonetheless called to the honourable side of the savagery that now dominated him. Something within him wanted her, a woman and potential threat, protected.

Charlie snuggled closer to the man beside her, smiling. Oh yes, she definitely wanted to stay right where she was.

But she was a little worried how he would react finding her so close to him. He had probably only ever slept this close to a woman only a handful of times out of choice. So yes, there was a niggling fear at the back of her mind of what action Vardene would take upon waking.

But she could not leave him, could not go and sit on a chair so that he'd be alone when he woke. She could not. As much for herself as for him. So instead she snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around his sleeping form, drawing comfort as much as giving it, and wanting to hold him forever until his pain went away.

***

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to say, where to look. It had been different last night. His instincts had taken over, his desire to protect her had fuelled his actions. He had _known_ what to do, _known _how to act.

But now… now he was lost. Again.

She could wear her Jewels this morning. She didn't need protection. She did not need _him_. She was staring at him now, he could feel her gaze on him, seeing into his very soul. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't meet her gaze.

She had been scared of him at first. She might be angry now. He didn't feel up to dealing with either emotion, but still hoped for the latter rather then her fear. He never again wanted her to fear him, never again wanted her terror filled gaze directed at him. Anything but that.

He was slowly healing. _She_ was healing him, mending the deep emotional wounds within him. Yes, he'd always feel the scars—the whores of Hyall had tormented him for too long for him not to—but she was knitting his once open wounds together, helping him to mend. Giving him a future. And he could not imagine one without her now.

Vardene did not know completely how she fit into his future, he just knew he needed her there. And so he couldn't look up at her, couldn't look into the eyes of the woman whose laughter and light gave him everything he wanted, everything he needed. He could not. Because there he might find fear, he might find anger. He might find rejection.

He kept his gaze averted, his body language screaming his inner turmoil. He heard her rise from the bed he had, only moments ago, left her in. He could feel her breath soft against his shoulder as she stood behind him. His body tensed involuntarily. She would not hurt him. He relaxed his muscles. She was safe.

He felt her slip her hand into his and a moment later he clasped his fingers tight around hers, knowing he'd fight with everything he had to hold on to her, to keep her in his life. He needed her. She was home. She was his.

***

"Aw, come on Charlie, you can't stay mad at me forever!"

"I can try." She really could. Valen should have found out what was going on before he had acted against a terrified and breaking man.

Charlie sighed. No, he had done right. He had seen a threat, and being the highly trained Warlord he was, had acted upon it. Still, she did not find it easy to forgive him for almost beating a man to death. And an untrained one at that.

"Ow!"

"Quit your whining, Warlord, and come and give me a hand with these rolls," came the matter-of-fact voice of Mrs Rae.

Charlie watched with an amused grin as Valen stood shaking his hand exaggeratedly in response to the whack from Mrs Rae's wooden spoon. Perhaps it was not all exaggeration, the woman could deliver a mean blow with that implement.

"I guess next time you will remember to ask if you want a biscuit?" Charlie smiled sweetly.

Valen just growled.

"What are you doing, young man? I need you over here," Mrs Rae's commanding voice announced. "Goodness, but the youth of today are getting lazy."

Charlie's grin got wider.

"After this I think I _deserve_ to be forgiven," Valen muttered as he went off to help the cook, making Charlie laugh.

***

Valen sauntered whistling through the halls. Things were looking good. He grinned. Things were looking _very_ good. Ginnifer, the gorgeous underling of Mrs Rae's, had smiled at him. Oh, she'd smiled at him before, but not with that mischievous glint in her eye, and certainly not with that light blush staining her cheeks giving away wicked intentions.

Valen's grin broadened as his mind wandered to thoughts of bedroom play.

Thump.

Distracted from his heated musings, Valen had a mind to go give the couple so obviously enjoying each others company in the nearby room a piece of his—

Wait. His eyes narrowed as he felt the psychic scent of disgust and loathing rolling in waves from behind the door. He recognized that psychic scent.

Valen barged through the door, Opal-Jewelled shields wrapping him protectively as he came angrily snarling into the room. Vardene's cold dread filled gaze swung to him the moment he entered, standing there, as he was, held against the wall by the small hand of Bryony, a Summer-sky Jewelled visiting Queen.

"Is there a problem?" his voice came out harsh and angry.

"No problem, Warlord," Bryony's amused childlike voice answered him.

"I wasn't asking _you_, Lady," he snarled, glaring daggers at her.

"I…"

"Warlord, you forget your place. You serve," the little bitch said as Vardene started to speak.

Valen growled.

Vardene's eyes fell from his. His fear and hate still filled the room, but now it was tempered with resignation.

"Besides," Bryony pouted, "I'm a Queen. He has to serve."

She stroked Vardene's cheek. He expected Vardene to rip her hand off, but he just stood there.

"Vardene, you give in to that bitch and I'll make your last beating feel like a lover's caress!"

Vardene stared at him, looked back at the bitch Queen, sneered and stepped away from her contact.

"You cannot do this! He was a pleasure slave and he ser—"

"I wear no Ring! You have no claim on me!" Vardene growled, quickly making up for his earlier submissiveness. "I don't serve you, you little whore."

"You cannot—"

"Oh, but I just _did_. Leave, bitch, before I slick the walls with your blood," Vardene snarled.

Valen watched as the young Queen paled as she stood staring at Vardene. Vardene stared straight back. _Hell's fire, he'll do it too_. He had only been holding back because he wanted to stay here in Dena Nehele, had only withheld his temper because he thought succumbing to this little bitch was the price demanded for his new life. But he knew where he stood now, and Valen knew the man standing straight and tall before him would not hold back the next time a woman made unwanted advances. This Warlord Prince would kill to protect the life he was trying to build.


	7. Chapter 7

Vardene sighed. He had been talking quietly with Valen, the Warlord filling him in on what was _not_ expected of him. Making him realise he didn't have to sexually pleasure a woman every time one of the little whores snapped their fingers, making him realise he was free to choose the woman he wanted to partner with.

Lord Jared, the Queen's consort and husband, had arrived in the middle of that discussion. At first he had shied away from the man's scrutiny, knowing as he did that Lord Jared had not approved of his being brought into Dena Nehele, knowing he had had reservations about an unknown Warlord Prince in his Queen's Territory who may have lost something vital in the hands of Hyall's ruling class. And so he had been worried about his interest in him since he had threatened a visiting Queen. He didn't want to leave Dena Nehele.

He didn't want to leave Charlotte.

But Jared's short visit had shown him to be sympathetic. He had understood. And he had talked to him as if he was not a near savage Blood-male capable of killing those of the distaff gender.

More importantly, the man had encouraged his feelings for Charlotte. He had told him what Daemon SaDiablo, the Sadist, had told him.

"_Don't spend the rest of your life regretting that you did not take the risk," he had said, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't let those who have tried to break you win," he had added when he had started to shake his head. _

He made it sound possible. He had given him hope. Not an illusion a sex slave should entertain. But then, he was no longer a slave, he no longer had to suffer the touch of a scheming little slut. He no longer had to live with a Ring around his cock, no longer had to tread carefully or else risk a woman's painful wrath.

But what of Valen? Vardene groaned at the thought of Charlotte with another man. He turned towards the Warlord who was still in the room with him.

"Are you and Charlotte…?"

"What? No! Mother Night, no. I guess you thought so because I tend to be a bit protective of the little witch? Poor woman," he chuckled, "I drive her nuts as it is, I don't think she could handle me on a permanent basis," he wriggled his eyebrows, "No, I saw her through her virgin night, that's all."

Vardene suppressed the jealous reaction that that news caused. He was being irrational. But he still couldn't help but envy the man beside him.

And want to hit him.

"So, you don't…" he stopped as he noticed Catlyn running towards them.

"Here comes trouble," he heard Valen mutter under his breath.

"Hi Vardene! Hi Valen! Guess what, Valen? Vardene said he would take me up to the waterfall today! You can come too if you want, it will be loads of fun! You really should come, you know, it took me _forever_ to get him to take me. It might take you longer, so you should just tag along today. It wouldn't be any trouble, I'll go and tell Mrs Rae to pack some more food for us if you like?"

"Unfortunately I am otherwise occupied, but I will come with you to the kitchens," Valen said grinning, "I have some unfinished business."

"Okay! And next time you can come! Its good you're going to visit Ginnifer, Valen. But you had better behave or Mrs Rae might take after you with her wooden spoon again. I know! You should bring Ginnifer flowers or something—"

Valen spluttered.

"I think she likes daisies. Or was it roses? I know," Catlyn continued, "I'll ask her for you!"

"Ah thanks for the offer, little one, but I think I'll just take my chances," Valen answered with a slightly wild expression.

Vardene fought to keep the grin from his face. It looked like Valen had met his match, not that Catlyn was aware she was getting the best of him though.

"How about you stay here with me? You can tell me what you and Charlotte have been up to."

"Okay! Well…"

Vardene nodded in acknowledgement as Valen gave him a grateful glance before disappearing to the kitchens… and in pursuit of a particular witch. The man certainly was confident in that respect.

"Vardeeeeene, you're not listening!"

He grinned down at the young witch.

"Well, I am now," he said whisking her up onto his shoulders, smiling in pleasure at her squeal of delight.


	8. Chapter 8

Vardene stared at the child in his arms.

The day had started so well. Catlyn had been up and running around. She had been pestering him. She had been chattering incessantly. Charlie had been there, smiling indulgently at Catlyn who had been happily running between them. Charlie had been smiling, smiling up at _him_.

A lone tear escaped Vardene's eye as he held the child in his arms closer to him, trying to keep her warm against a day that was slowly cooling. He looked towards the horizon, back to where Charlie was. Would she be missing them yet? Would she come looking?

He remembered her face as he had last seen it, all smiles and blushes as he had moved to stand too close to her and run his fingers loosely through her hair. She had not been the only one to blush, he thought with a slight smile. He was not used to feeling the way he did, not used to feeling pleasure because of a woman.

It had been after this that he and Catlyn had gone walking up to the nearby waterfall. She had been pestering him for near a week for him to take her. The girl was persistent if nothing else.

His pleasant musings ended. He wished to the Darkness he hadn't listened to her, but instead told her no, that it was too dangerous. But he had not. He had given in to the girl who had taken her place in his heart as a younger sister. And now she lay cold and bloody in his arms.

Vardene squeezed his eyes shut. He could still remember her scream as it had shattered the tranquil air, could still remember seeing her fall from the rocks she had been so impulsively scampering across despite his protests. He could still remember seeing her body lying still in the shallow water below.

He hadn't stopped to think, had climbed straight down that rocky slope as fast as he could to reach her. Too fast. He had slipped and landed heavily on his leg. And because of his stupidity, his unthinking haste, he had been unable to carry her far from where she had fell. He had only been able to get her out of the cold water, only been able to carry her awkwardly up onto the nearby dry rocks. She had needed him, trusted him. He cursed himself a thousand times for that. He hated himself for not being able to help her, hated himself that he could do nothing.

His body started to tremble. Catlyn was fading. Her skin was too cold and whimpering cries no longer left her lips.

Where were they? He needed them. Needed Charlie. She was a Healer. She could heal the fading little girl held in his arms. She could save his little sister.

"Catlyn," came his gut-wrenching cry as he buried his face in her neck, rocking them both back and forth.

So lost as he was in his pain, Vardene did not immediately hear the far off voices calling out, losing him precious minutes every call he missed.

"Vardene! Catlyn!"

His head snapped up.

"Vardene!"

"Here!" his emotion clogged voice croaked, "Mother Night, here!" he finished, his voice rising in desperation.

He vaguely heard people below moving quickly in his direction.

"It's okay now… they have come, little sister," he murmured softly, brushing her damp hair from her face.

"Mother Night," a shocked voice whispered, "Vardene… what happened?"

But Vardene neither heard, nor cared for the man who questioned him. Neither did he notice as the man helped him to his feet and down the slope towards the capitol of Dena Nehele. Asides from a few attempts by those who had come to their rescue to take Catlyn from him, he did not notice anything. He was lost in his pain, lost in the face of a girl who should never have trusted him to keep her safe.

***

Charlie watched the sleeping child. She had not left her side for some time now, but she now knew she would be okay. She had done all she could for her and thank the Darkness it had been enough.

But her emotions could not rest yet, not when another was all to ready to fill Catlyn's place. Vardene's image filled her mind. No one could get through to him. She still remembered his face as he had limped in between Valen and Reagan with Catlyn held in his arms. It had been so blank. So devoid of all feeling.

No one would have known how he felt if there had not been silent tears sliding down his cheeks.

He had been so unwilling to give the child in his grasp up to anyone. He had never growled, snarled or glared. He had not once acted as he had upon his arrival. Instead he had just quietly hung on, unwilling to surrender the small battered bundle in his arms.

But she had finally gotten through to him, had finally convinced him to give Catlyn to her so that she could begin her healing. She looked back affectionately at the sleeping child. Had Vardene not been there Catlyn would surely be dead. Had he given her up to someone else she would definitely be dead. But his unyielding embrace had stopped the flow of blood from the gash in her side, and the heat from his body had kept hers from chilling. He had saved her. He just needed to see it. If she could just get him to see Catlyn for himself… but so far all her efforts had been in vain.

Valen's quiet words came back to her.

"_He just stood there, Charlie…" Valen ran a hand roughly over his face, "we didn't know what to do… we got him back, put him to bed… we had to take his boots off, had to tuck him in like a child… and he let us! That was the worst part, Charlie, he _let_ us."_

A quiet knock echoed through the room. Charlie moved from her bedside vigil to answer the door.

"Yes…?" her eyes widened at the man who stood there. Vardene. She took his hand and pulled him gently with her towards the bed that Catlyn lay in.

"She is okay, Vardene."

He remained quiet. She glanced up at him. He was staring at Catlyn, his gaze unmoving. Abruptly he turned to her, tearing his hand from hers so he could pull her into a hard embrace.

"Thankyou," came his fierce whisper.

***

Vardene found her later that day, still beside Catlyn's bed, but this time asleep herself. He had left them both in order to fetch some food. His little Healer had obviously been tired if those few minutes he'd been gone were all it took for her to fall asleep. He smiled as he gently lifted her into his arms and started towards her own quarters.

He knew now he was completely free from abuse here. He had not known a part of him had still feared the women of Dena Nehele would still rise against him until Charlotte had shown him that he had nothing to fear as a result of Catlyn's accident. He knew that if the same thing had happened in Hyall he would definitely have felt the agony of the Ring. Especially if she had been a treasured daughter of one of Hyall's Hundred Families.

Hell's fire, the Ring would only have been the beginning.

But Charlotte had shown him, was still showing him, that he had nothing to fear. Her light, her laughter and warmth, still shone from within her, even when he had feared it never would around him again.

A small smile curved his lips as he reached her chambers. He carried her to her own bed and placed her tenderly on its mattress.

"Vardene…"

He looked down startled, but she was still asleep. And yet she had called to him.

It nearly undid him. He stared down at the exhausted woman, his heart beating a rapid pace. He knew he would not be able to bring himself to leave her room. He laid down next to her, wrapping himself possessively around her sleeping form, hoping he would find the strength to leave her before she woke, but knowing he would not.

***

Charlie awoke to find herself not alone in her bed, a lone candle casting dancing shadows on the face of the man beside her. He had not noticed she was awake yet. She wriggled against him slightly to see what he would do.

Vardene's head turned swiftly, his eyes locking with hers. She blushed.

He reached out and ran his fingers across her lips making her body tremble. Her breathing quickened. She wanted him. She did not know if she dared reciprocate his touch though. She did not want him to think she was the same as all the women he had encountered in his past. She could not bear that.

But neither could she bear her need.

She moved her hands under his lose shirt and down his bare chest, tracing the well defined muscle, her eyes unable to stop following the progressive her fingers made. But all too soon he grasped her wrists making her eyes fly to his.

What she saw there both excited and scared her. Fear. Lust. Violence. Love.

She could not tear her gaze from his. But oh how she wanted to hold him, to smooth away the hesitance and conflict so clearly etched on his face. He was warring with himself, wondering if he dared test the beliefs he had held to so strongly, wondering if he dared place his trust in a woman. _Yes_, she wanted to scream, _trust me!_ But she knew it would only make things worse. Would only make him aware she knew of the inner turmoil he suffered. So she held her tongue.

His fingers traced her cheek, whispering slowly down her neck, his eyes slowly following before quickly darting up to meet her own. He looked wary. She had expected no less. Any woman looking at him, the way she knew she must be, would only have meant him harm after they had ridden him.

"Charlie…I… I can't do this…"

She watched, helpless, as the man she cared for filled with anguish, but he needed to figure this out himself.

"Mother Night, but you're beautiful," he whispered.

His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging it down so her head tilted back so he could kiss her neck.

"Charlie," his voiced caressed her name in a husky whisper, "you're not afraid of me are you? Only, I… before you were…"

"No, I am not scared of you," she breathed, becoming further flustered. He always called her Charlotte. Always.

"I have never felt drawn to anyone like I am drawn to you," he whispered as released his hold and cupped her face in his hands, "I have never cared for a woman how I care for you… But I've had enough of not caring, I've had enough of killing and running from pain. Let me, and I will always keep you safe, Charlie, I will never run. I will never leave you... I love…"

"Vardene… I…" she did not know what to say. She cared for him so much and she had no idea how to tell him. She was still scared he might run, still scared even though he was telling her he never would.

Pain flickered across his face and he pulled away. She could have howled in frustration.

"You _are_ scared."

"No," she pleaded, "not of you!"

"Don't feel sorry for me, Charlotte," he growled, "_Never_ pity me."

"I—"

"Don't ask me to stay away from you, I can't… I don't want to fight it anymore, Charlie. I don't think I can…"

"I would not… could not… Vardene, I _love_ you…" she gasped as her words brought his hands back swiftly to her face and watched in loving wonder as delight transformed his features.

His hands started to softly explore her body as his lips lightly brushed hers before becoming more forceful, more insistent, making her arch into his grasp.

And then he showed her not what an ex-pleasure slave could do, but exactly what a man in love could.


End file.
